


Quiet Journey

by wonderwomaneering



Series: Gigolas Week 2014 [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 5 Times, Book Verse, First Kiss, Gigolas Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwomaneering/pseuds/wonderwomaneering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Day One of Gigolas Week!</p><p>With all their fighting, bickering and shouting body counts, a quietly formed bond is easily overlooked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Journey

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic, first fiction in English - insert obligatory plea for forgiveness for horrible language plus steep encouragement to point out mistakes.
> 
> Also, unbeta'd. Cause I'm an idiot.

**1\. The First Time They Almost Make It Through A Conversation Without Fighting**

 

 

For the first time in his life, Legolas knew what it meant to be without the stars. The stuffy air, the smell of decay, only made the yearning in his heart stronger. Were he any place else, he'd wander out, and sit under the night sky. Eventually he would pass into elvish sleep - his gaze still turned up, his face illuminated by starlight. But as it was, he was deep within the earth and the stars were beyond his reach. And so he stood there, on the edge of the plateau where the fellowship was huddled together on the floor, resting uneasy. He would find no rest in this place and so he had volunteered to take all watches and give the others what sleep they could find. His eyes searched the dark of Moria, for any sign of the dread that befell the dwarves that came here.

 

But he was not alone in his wakefulness. Gimli was upright on his bedroll, leaning against the cold rock and staring of into the same unyielding darkness. Legolas wondered if he saw more than his own eyes or if this night was too dark even for eyes made to live in darkness.

Gimli had been quiet since they had entered the mines. Legolas only noticed because the dwarf had been unable to stop talking ever since they had decided to venture into the mines. What had he expected? That these halls were as his song described them? 

 

The dwarf would have to be a fool to have thought it possible. Legolas was only distant kin of the Elves that had lived here and still he knew that these halls were claimed by unnamed darkness. What could a handful of dwarves do? Legolas' eyes wandered over the dark shapes in the distance again and he cursed the impenetrable darkness. He had known such darkness before, darkness that was more than the absence of light, that finds a way into the soul. It had invaded his home, too.

 

The silence was throbbing in his ears. From the deep dark even the tiniest noises must echo back, interfering and overlapping. There were no whispers in the air, there could not be. They had come this way and no living soul had made itself known. Only the sound of a hammer had disrupted the silence and it had only brought a deep chill upon them all. He took a step back, away from the edge, eerily aware of the dust scrunching underneath his feet. The sound ringing off far away wall went no doubt unnoticed by mortal ears, yet unsettling to him. It made him aware of the vastness of Khazad-Dûm and the space in which foul creatures may yet hide. 

 

Of course the hammer could always have been swung by a dwarf, signalling their presence, and yet no one had voiced that thought. This place was evil and they all knew. They had only not dared to voice the thought. If he tried, he might still hear the ringing in the deep.

 

“It must have been beautiful once.” He finally said, his voice barely above a whisper and yet loud enough to silence the throbbing quiet. Gimli turned his head, eyes skimming the plateau, doubtlessly wondering if he was the one addressed. 

“Aye, though I've only known it through tales.” he finally replied, his voice hoarse.

“If those tails are anything like the song you sang of it, then I am sad that we should see it in these wretched days.” Legolas continued, moving further away from the edge. The dwarf eyed him, as if expecting a hit that was sure to come and Legolas found that it wounded his heart. He held no love for the dwarf. Yet that the creature would think him so cruel that he would come and talk him down in such a dark hour, was sobering. 

Especially when the home he had spoken of in such poetic tones had reminded the elf of his own home in brighter days. 

 

In an airy forest clearing, under a sky with the stars reminiscent of the greatness of his people, Legolas knew he would react as usual. He would be overcome with pride and inevitable wrath that he would think so lowly of him. But in the sadness brought upon him by eternal dark of Moria, he only felt betrayed.

“My home was beautiful too once.” he whispered and saw ill will vanish from the brow of the dwarf. No doubt he had seen the sorry state of Greenwood the Great. 

“It has since lost much of its beauty, its peace. But I, too, cling to hope that it will be restored once. As your song foretold for these halls.”

 

After much contemplation a small smile appeared on the lips of the dwarf – or so Legolas thought. It was quite hard to tell with all the hair in his face . “Apologies, Master Elf, but I marvel that you should have listened to my song. I avoided to look upon you on purpose – lest you not appreciate it. I would have to end my singing in favour of spilling your blood in these sacred halls.” Legolas' face contorted in disdain. Could none of his words appease this damned dwarf? Were all his efforts to be met with condescension? 

“All I offered was – ”

 

Gimli's face fell and he held cut off the elf with a sigh. “No need for anger. I was attempting jest.” he grumbled and turned his face away again. Legolas took a deep breath of stale air to calm himself.“Your people have a strange sense of humour.” he bit out. 

 

“At least we have one. What use is a face like that if it never lights up in laughter?” the dwarf remarked, suppressing laughter at the confusion that snuck into the anger in his companion's face. “I would apologize, if I held regrets for not finding the thought of my murder amusing.” Legolas flinched when he heard them echoing back. The wizard stirred and grumbled something that even Legolas could not make out. But if he had to guess neither of their people would be particularly flattered. 

 

“If you two are fighting any longer or louder, you will find out how many qualms I have to throw royalty of both Mirkwood and Erebor into the everlasting shadow.” he addressed them and with that he turned over.

 

Legolas huffed and went to his place at the other side of their camp again. He would spend the remainder of their rest staring into the dark, making a point not to look upon the dwarf again.

“Lest I spill dwarven blood in their own sacred halls.” he murmured in his own tongue, glancing at Gandalf.

 

**2\. The First Time They Spend Time In Each Other's Company, Somewhat Voluntarily**

 

“You are wandering off again?” Legolas stopped dead in his tracks. The voice belonged to Gimli who had been sitting on the roots of the Mallorn tree that served as their shelter. “I planned to. Unless I'm needed here.” He turned around where their companions were dozing in the morning sun. They were all still suffering under the darkness of Moria and Gandalf's fall. “These woods are beautiful, worthy of the Golden Lady that lives here. I do not begrudge you your leaving.”

It took Legolas a while to see that he must look silly, frozen mid-step and staring at the dwarf. He had noticed how quiet his companion had been after they had met the Lady of the Forest. He had seen a change, yet to see it professed, shocked him into a few moments of quiet.

 

“You wish to come with me.” he finally stated. The Dwarf hesitated. “Well, I wish to see these woods. And you are.” He cleared his throat. “Seeing them, that is. If I did come with you, I would see them. So I guess, you could be saying that I want to come with you.”

 

“You can not see them alone.” Gimli raised his eyebrows. “No I cannot.”

“Then you should. Come with me.” He said, through gritted teeth. He did not think he could stand the silence that would follow, if he shot the dwarf down. Silence, instead of that grumbling voice telling them to get over their petty differences. To live up to their title of fellowship.

 

Gimli nodded, laying his pipe aside and stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants. “Might as well. Dwarves are not made for sitting around all day.” 

 

Each step let the regret grow in Legolas' heart. What had he thought when he had invited the dwarf along? He had yet to get through a conversation with him that did not end in thoughts of bloodshed. Yet his words of praise for the Lady of Lórien had been earnest. Legolas was glad to see one speak with devotion of her after the man of Gondor had doubted her intentions. 

 

Even if the one recognizing her virtue was a dwarf.

 

“I've been meaning to ask you something.” Said dwarf's deep voice disrupted his thoughts.

 

“Do as you wish but keep in mind there are guards hidden in these trees.” he quipped, though the frown on Gimli's fore

“I do not think my words will warrant such action, but judge for yourself.” said the dwarf, eyeing the trees around him for any trace of said elves. Blasted creatures. 

 

“I was merely wondering what ye said to these elves back there, when they refused to let me in at all. Truth be told, when Frodo told me they were questioning you about my intentions, I expected to be tied up. Left behind as a present to the orcs, rather sooner than later.”

 

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks, feeling anger well up inside him again. “I doubt I've ever given you reason to think I would engage in such dreadful behaviour.”

“You certainly didn't do anything to discourage such thoughts.”

“Well neither have you!” His cry startled a few birds from nearby bushes and no doubt drew the attention of the guards, as the stopped in his path to glower at the dwarf. Gimli could not help but smile at the elf.

 

“Aye, neither have I. Two self-righteous fools we would be, to take offense to our honour, when all we ever did was show our worst behaviour.”

Legolas deflated. He felt his cheeks burning up at the thought of his kin being nearby. They must have overheared his rash behaviour being called out by a dwarf centuries his junior. 

 

“Perhaps we should walk in silence.” Gimli suggested and took on their path again. “Our words only seem to destroy any beauty found in these woods.”

“You may be right. Perhaps idle chats are not to be had between our people.” 

 

Gimli laughed at that. “If only Aragorn had heard that. He would have wondered if he had been wrong about the stiff necks of elves that you would abandon all effort so fast. I was of course pulling your leg again. You should pay better attention or many a good laugh will pass you by on our continued quest.”

 

Biting back any ill-willed comment, Legolas could indeed recognize something like good-natured teasing. He himself was known to partake in such words among friends. The thought only made him think he must have looked look silly with his previous angry outbursts over the last weeks. Though one could not think it his fault that dwarves found so much humour in violence. Enough of it was in this world, and not the least amount between their own people. 

 

“You mean to stay then?”

The dwarf eyed him curiously. 

 

“With Frodo. On this quest. You will not return north?” Gimli huffed and spared him a derisive glance.

 

“I never had the intention, if you may recall my words at the council.”

“I do remember. Yet I thought after learning the fate of your kin in Moria –”

“Khazad-Dûm.”

“Beg your Pardon?”

“If it is not too much trouble.”

 

“Well, then. After learning the fate of your kin in Khazad-Dûm – why do you scowl like that?” 

“Moria will do, if I may recant. Any insult that name entails is not as grievous as the atrocities your tongue does to our sacred language.”

 

Surely the dwarf was testing him, trying to anger him on purpose, Legolas thought, as he took a few moment to gather himself. No creature could be this infuriating in idle conversation with no ill intent. 

 

“The Lady sure had gotten my hopes up that your folk may have a talent for our words after all, yet you crush these dreams. Your tongues seem not made for our speech.” Gimli continued, unphased by the elf stopping, leaving Legolas a few good paces behind. His eyes bore into the back of the dreaded dwarf, his mind racing with what to throw back in his wretched face. His companion turned to him, with a smile tugging on his lips. 

 

This was a test, he was sure of it. The dwarf was deliberately insulting him, hoping to get another outburst out of him. But he was underestimating his immortal patience. Legolas would prove to him that he had miscalculated if the dwarf thought he would give in and be manipulated.

 

“So you will stay with Frodo?” Legolas said, after taking a deep breath to calm himself, falling into a slow walk again. He knew not what upset him so about the words of the dwarf, he himself was known to deal and take harsher words with his friends back home. 

 

“Of course. A dwarf's word is never given without heartfelt truth behind it.” 

“Well, neither is an elf's.”

“Except I have never heard you give your word.” Legolas tensed. 

“No need for offense.” Gimli added. “I am looking for an answer, not to raise your anger.”

 

They reached an open clearing, ablaze in the early rays of sunset, and the stars were only just beginning to show. 

 

“I am.” Legolas answered finally. “If I left now – though the north needs me, I have no doubt of it – I could not be at peace.” 

“And here you are?” Gimli's voice carried a hint of amusement. He did not list what unsettled both of them, in the last few days and did not need to allude to those things yet to come. Their journey was after all far from over. 

 

“Not in an immediate sense, no. But when we win, I want to be there and not hear it from a messenger, weeks past the day itself. I will be there and I will look at the stars and see them shine upon a world free of darkness.”

 

Legolas bit his lip, still looking up. He had not meant to tell of such intimate thoughts and yet here in these woods the moment almost seemed tangible. 

“When we win.” Gimli echoed. “I like that. You hold onto that, and who knows, we just might.” Despite himself, Legolas smiled.

 

**3\. The First Time They They Find Comfort In Each Other's Words – Or Lack Thereof**

 

It was hours after Legolas' arrow had taken the shadow from the sky. Yet Gimli was still set upon by thoughts of the darkness that had accompanied the creature. While he knew it to be impossible for it to be a Balrog, the same dread had overcome him as on that day in the depths of Khazad-dûm. No other creature had approached them, but they all were restless that night. 

 

He looked over to the elf who had his bow clutched to his chest, still gazing into the darkness around them. His demeanour was uneasy and he was not his carefree self, his long limbs were tense and his back so taut he seemed even taller. His face was stern, as was the way of the elves, as Gimli had long since learned, and learned to dislike at that. 

 

“Do you doubt your aim, Legolas? Or why are you looking out as if your opponent was too burst through the trees at any point?” The elf's face scrunched up and he came from his place at the edge of the camp to Gimli, where his bedding lay next to the dwarf's. 

 

“Must you always tease me so? I had hoped we were past such low jabs?” Gimli's face softened at the elf's words. “Apologies. My words are never meant to hurt. You merely seem to react better to any word aimed at your pride than a hundred at your common sense, lad.” 

 

Legolas tilted his head. Mahal bless his heart.

 

“What I mean to say is: rest a while. I will wake you in time to heroically slay any other shadow that besets us in the night.” Legolas smiled at him and seemed relieved when he laid his head down on his bedroll, his eyes fixed at the sky. 

 

Gimli found himself unable to look away from the delicate features, the soft glowing skin, the eyes wide open, blue as a spring sky. In this state of dream, his unlikely friend seemed farther away from him than any that walk this earth than in any other state. 

 

When the company had left Lórien, Gimli had wept for the sense of peace that his heart had found there. It had lifted his spirits after the long darkness of Khazad-dûm. He feared that dread and grief over the death of his kin and Gandalf's fall would return once they left the comforting arms of the forest. Yet a few days out, he had yet to feel the sharp sting of grief in his chest.

 

The only sting his heart had felt was when his new companion again thought him capable of any ill will behind his words. 

 

In the days following their first walk in Lórien he had first come to appreciate the elf's company. They even talked with only laughter raising their voices. And yet there still were moments when he said something in naught but care and the elf would mistake his intent. 

 

And all this despite Legolas himself engaging in much the same jests with Aragorn. 

 

The thought that he would still hold some prejudice that they had carried all their lives was to be expected. And yet it weighed heavy on the dwarf's heart. Was he the same? He doubted it. Even thinking back he could not think of a single thought he had about elves that Legolas had not proven ridiculous, unfounded.

 

The elf shifted to look at him. “You are fuming and for once without that dreadful pipe of yours.”

 

With the possible exception of being an impossible annoyance, maybe. “I know not what you mean, I am sitting here in perfect silence.” Legolas' face scrunched up in confusion, as his eyes scrutinized Gimli.

 

“Silence reveals many things that words cannot tell.”

“Then our silences may be different. Mine only mean that I have nothing to tell.” The elf sat up pulling his blankets with him to avoid the brisk air, still his eyes never leaving the dwarf. 

“Maybe it does. I … ” He pulled the blankets close and looked terribly young. Then again, Gimli mused, maybe he was in the way of his people. 

 

“Much is unsaid with my kin.” Legolas finally continued. “Since my travel I have found it impossible to say when something is said and something is meant. I know that my people also joke and do so by saying one thing and meaning another and it has always been clear which it was and yet … I cannot find the words.”

 

“Then maybe you should try silence.” Legolas' face fell, and Gimli felt a surge of frustration and laughter rising in his chest. 

 

“Here's a rule of thumb, lad. If a dwarf means ill he will not talk of it but connect his fist with your face with a force that will knock out a farmer's sturdiest oxe. We are not a people of silences and words unsaid.”

 

At that a pensive smile appeared on the elf's lips and he nodded but made no move to carry on talking. 

“Are you saying something right now?” came Gimli's snide remark when he had quite enough of those too blue eyes. It was beyond him how eyes could be this bright in the small hours of night.

 

“I am not yet sure. I might be.”

 

“Ah. We are truly blessed to have you as an envoy for your people. Such eloquence.” And this time the elf's smile persisted. 

 

“Well, if you're going to stay awake and say nothing, I will sleep.” Gimli said, satisfied with the understanding they reached.

 

“Be my guest.”

 

“Wake me if you ever figure what what you are saying – or not.” 

 

 

**4\. The First Time They Take Some Comfort In Each Others Arms**

 

The afternoon passed into evening and they would be on the road again soon. As his companions were dozing in the shadow of Orthanc, Legolas wandered off to the side. His heart was hurting at the sight of the slain trees. He made his way over to the edge of the forest, his feet stepping on the charred earth. A foul stench still hung over the tree stumps. There were still markings on the floor telling of the orcs who had cruelly cut their way through this forest not long ago.

 

Anger hit him like a wave when he reached the first green trees of Fangorn. For a moment he hesitated, remembering the orcs screaming in anguish as the Huorns ended their miserable lives. But he came here with similar grief. With that in his mind, he touched the rough bark of an old tree, whose anger had struck him with notable violence. Do not be afraid, he thought, Fangorn will hurt no more, the evil is gone. Yet still the mutilated trees lay behind him, as did his own kin before the Hornburg. He could not bear to think of Haldir's lifeless face. His fair features had been marred by dirt and his own blood mixed with the black blood of the Uruk-Hai. 

 

He sank to the dry, deforested soil as he grieved for his kinsmen. And the Rohirrim, too, lost to endless hatred of all that is good and green in this world.

 

He had nearly lost Gimli.

 

The dwarf had insisted, the head wound was nothing, but the terror in the elf's heart was very much real. 

 

And yet, Legolas' heart still warmed at the thought of Treebeard giving them leave to travel Fangorn. He stepped into the long darkness, closing his eyes. Voices echoing from deep within the forest, telling of victory and loss lay heavy on his heart. 

 

“Can't wait, lad?” Legolas turned his head to see that Gimli had come up the hill. The elf grinned. “I was merely bored by the constant sound of snoring. You will find that the wind rustling the leaves is far more pleasant.” Gimli snorted. “I feared you were brooding, yet I see you are your usual intolerable self and I have made the long way up the hill for nothing.”

“Apologies. Sit with me and catch your breath, though I would appreciate you staying awake so that I do not have to venture further to escape.” Gimli laughed and sat down next to him. “I hope you do not find snoring too unpleasant. When we travel these woods, I would hate to wake up to you strangling me because I was drowning out your precious trees.”

 

“Or that you wake up alone, because you drove me to the other side of the woods.” Gimli's face fell at that. Even in jest, the prospect made him shiver, and the blasted elf just laughed at him. “Cheer up, my friend, I would not abandon you. If anything, I am interested in finding those draughts the hobbits spoke of and see if we can grow you a few inches.”

 

“You shall do no such thing!” the dwarf yelled in indignation and again his companion broke out into bright laughter. When he calmed down, Gimli was still mumbling in horror.

“Next he'll be wanting to cut my beard, blasted creatures, with their trees and – .“ 

He stopped when Legolas' slender fingers delicately touched the top of his head. Gimli turned his head to look at his companion to find him scrutinizing the bandage on his head.

 

“How fares your injury?” Gimli rolled his eyes. “About the same as when you asked last time, not two hours past. When it was, if you recall, unchanged, from less than an hour before that.” Legolas tensed and his fingers disappeared from Gimli's hair, making him regret his harsh choice of words.

 

“I mean to say, you need not trouble yourself. I was not making light of it, when I told Aragorn it was nothing. It will heal in no time at all.”

 

“I know you would not be so foolish. And still I cannot help myself. Apologies.”

“No reason to apologize. If anything, my disregard for your concern was ill-placed.” Gimli searched for Legolas' eyes, and found them fixed in the direction of Helm's Deep. 

 

“But it is hardly my injury alone that weighs on your heart, is it not?” The elf dropped his gaze to look at his companion. “You are right. We have seen much death these past days, even right now our eyes bear witness to the cruelty of the evil we fight. I know you are far to enduring to be hindered by such a small injury, yet I fear my heart is not. Your wound was enough to shake it deeply and anything more grave may damage me beyond what words can tell.”

 

“Then I assure you that we will not let it come to that.” Gimli spoke, and Legolas nodded. “I trust you to keep your word, Gimli.” he said and shifted to rest his golden head on the dwarf's shoulder. Gimli laid his leather-clad fingers on his chest. 

 

  
  
 **5\. The First Time They Were Actually Afraid Enough Of Their Future To Overcome The Fear Of The Present**

 

The eastern sky was burning. Smoke and fire rising from the mountains of Mordor could not be rivalled by the biggest smithies of Erebor. “We are damned fools to ride there.” Gimli announced to none but himself, as he sat upon the balcony of his rooms in Minas Tirith. The sun must be up soon, not that he could tell through the thick layer of clouds that had not broken up in days.

 

“This is a rare occurrence.” 

 

Gimli all but jumped in his chair, as Legolas came out onto the balcony and shook him out of his thoughts. The first thing when he got to be in a smithy was to make a pair of solid iron shoes for the damned elf and put an end to sneaking up on him. “You awake and I still dreaming.” Legolas continued. “Especially on night as this.”

The elf sat down on the bench beside him.

 

“My time in this world is all but spent. I'd rather not spend these last hours asleep.” Legolas frowned. “It is not like you to voice such thoughts. Or rather have them, if I have come to know you at all.”

“Aye, and yet I find I can find no good words. Not while shadow and flame are the only light in the morning sky and serve as grim reminder that soon I must break my promise to you.”

“It is true, I would have loved to see those caves.” Gimli smiled.

“Ah, a little joy at least, at the thought of an elf longing to see stone, not tree. Yet that is not what I speak of. I promised to let no harm come to me, so as not to weigh on your heart. I fear where we are going, there is no hope for that.” He pressed his eyes closed to escape the wrathful sky if only for a moment. Instead he opened them to a curtain of golden hair, as Legolas pressed him close to his chest.

 

“I would release you from your words, Gimli, I cannot bear to see them upset you so.” the elf whispered, his chin resting upon his companion's head with his fingers tangled in his hair. “Nay,” Gimli said and gently pushed the elf from him so he could look upon his face. “even if you do I fear it will not stop my weeping. If not for your heart, I will cry for mine, because it is long since I thought of my happiness as anything else but dependent on yours.”

 

“ Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” Legolas echoed the words Gimli had said a lifetime ago, on a morning bright with hope. “Aye, and it has become dark indeed.”

“But I would never leave it. Not while you still walk beside me.” Gimli smiled, nodding in silent agreement, before Legolas was leaning down. He stopped just for a breath with their noses touching, their eyes meeting. Then he tilted his head, closed his eyes and kissed his companion. He felt Gimli lean up and then his fingers at the back of his neck as the dwarf kissed him back. Gently Gimli pulled him back. “I wish ye had not done that.” Gimli uttered with his eyes on the elf's. Legolas cast his eyes down. “Apologies. I should not have presumed.” 

 

“Blasted elf. You mistake my meaning. Are we back to that again?” He caught the elf's chin and turned his face up again. “I mean to say you could have let me die without my every thought being 

that naught but my fretting stood between me and you for all this time.”

“All this time?” Legolas echoed, his doubts forgotten.

“Aye, and don't ask how long.”

“How long?”

“You won't ever do as you're told, will you.” Legolas grinned and leaned his forehead against Gimli's. The dwarf closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he looked at his love again, the elf still had that dreadful expectancy in his eyes. “You insist?”

“Do you really need ask?” Gimli chuckled despite wanting to knock some sense and decency into him.

 

“After Lórien.” he finally said. “I expected the peace my heart had found to leave me as I left the forest, yet the dread never came. It was only too obvious to assume that that which has given me peace had not left my side after all.” Legolas straightened his back and smiled down on him, his slender fingers touching Gimlis cheek.

 

“For what it is worth, so have I and the fault lies with me for not seeing in your heart. It must be some truth to what you always say then, and I truly keep my head among the stars, failing what is plain before me.” His face was solemn, much like Gimli thought his own must look.

 

“You admit to be at fault?” He said. “Would all the mithril in Khazad-Dûm move you to repeat your words where another can witness it?”

“Not in this age, Master Dwarf.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well. That was so cheesy I'll have to scoff at a lot of kittens to feel hardcore again. Also, apologies if it was a little all over the place, I may have been to excited to - I don't know - come up with a plan/plot/whatever but.
> 
> Let me know what you think?
> 
> Also, there's a part two, the +1 Thing, separated for reasons - it didn't really fit with the style of this one and I'm annoyed by such things :)


End file.
